cotton candy skies
by teeceecee
Summary: It starts as it always does; with one singular moment that embeds itself in the mind, a change of currents that freezes in the memories of two people on the verge of realizing that they mean more to the other than they expected. For her, it's a written letter. For him, it's when she falls into his arms. Allura/Lance


She doesn't know when it all starts, but she realizes she seeks him out more often now.

There are days when she will have trouble with Blue and he's the only one who knows how to soothe the huge mechanical lion. Allura silently despairs; she knows that as the last Princess of Althea, she must portray strength.

She must let fear be her guide.

And yet, when she sees how Lance smiles at Blue with a fragile edge, almost as if his smile could fracture at any minute, she doesn't know if fear is the answer. Lance croons a shallow pick-up line that has her smiling, internally rolling her eyes and jotting it down should she ever need it to persuade Blue.

"Hey Blue, are you from outer space? Cause your body is out of this world!"

She has to laugh. His facial expressions cap the flirtatious tone, and his wiggling eyebrows ignite a fit of giggles she barely smothers with her palm.

He turns to her, quirking a smile. "What's so funny, Princess?"

She regains her stoic exterior and shakes her head. "Nothing, Lance."

Lance lights up at her mirthful gaze, and he smirks. "Wait, you do find my pick-up lines funny. Do they work?"

Allura clasps her hands together in her front, forcing a polite smile. "Not really, Lance. But you could always try harder."

That answer seems to satisfy him, and he hums. "Whenever I need to bond with Blue, all I do is take a rag and wipe her down. She loves the attention." He picks a rag from the ground, and Allura notices how long his fingers are. She marvels at the pretty shape of his fingernails, how the curve of his palm is almost feminine as he dips the rag in a bucket of water. Lance murmurs something under his breath that she recognizes as his mother tongue and proceeds to wipe Blue's nose, lost in the motions.

The Lion remains pliant, and he breathes a laugh, looking peaceful as he shines the tip of Blue's nose, and she blurts out her thoughts before she has a chance to rein them in.

"How do you do it?"

Lance stills, turning to her, and he blinks slowly, like a startled klanmuirl. "Do what?"

Allura is at a loss for words. She doesn't know how to articulate her thoughts; she isn't like Shiro, who can voice his opinion in a diplomatic and reasonable way. Her methods are brasher, and she prefers force over diplomacy. She could never stay sane long enough during embassy visits to different planets, all with unpronounceable names in a whirlwind of colors and cultures that leave a pressing ache behind her eyes.

She bulldozes past her hesitation, deciding that maybe Lance would understand. "Bond with Blue," she admits, "how do you do it? How do you bond with her when I'm her pilot?"

Lance gives her a smile, and she's thrown off centre once more. Allura rights her axis, tilting back her world on a straight track as she pretends that Lance's blue eyes doesn't send tremors through her core. She's pining, and she's a pining mess.

He runs a hand through his brown locks, and she has to resist following the motions of his hand with her eyes. Allura doesn't know what's gotten into her, but it can't be any good. Her feelings for Lance were just as they are; feelings with nothing to sustain them beyond a foolish glimmer of hope. After the way how they started, there should be no way Lance was still infatuated with her.

The current Red Paladin still flirts with her at any given chance he could take, but it's a new, unfamiliar vein. There's no longer the lewd implications in his words, as she's apt to decipher. There's instead, a gentler tone, almost familial in nature, but she knows the way that Lance looks at her is distinguishable from a family member. No one related by blood would look at her with such devotion in his eyes.

"It's easy," he says, and pats the Lion's muzzle. "Blue's a lot like a Mom. She wants what's best for you. Treat her like a friend and you should be fine."

"A…friend," Allura tests the words in her mouth.

"What—you've never had any friends before, Princess?"

He means it in a teasing way, but she can't help the sadness that eclipses her mind. Her memories latch onto the people she's lost and she begs the tears not to fall, barely stemming the moisture misting her eyes.

"H-Hey," Lance's voice cracks as he takes in her dim disposition. Allura's sure she looks like a dying ember; she can feel her markings throbbing, a response to her grief.

"Don't worry about me," she says, adopting a faint smile. "I'm sorry, Lance. I just got…caught up in memories."

Lance sets the rag on the floor, and approaches her. She steadies her gaze and unclasps her hands. Her face is too hot and she mentally berates herself for such a reaction. The last thing she wanted was the Red Paladin to comfort her. Allura knows that a line would be crossed once that happens, and she so desperately wants to keep the boundaries clean.

"Hey, I didn't mean what I said, 'Llura. Don't take some of the things I said to heart," he says with a measure of self-disapproval.

"It's not you, Lance," she quickly smooths the situation over. "It's just…sometimes—"

She cuts off, putting a clamp to her emotions.

"Sometimes?" he prompts.

She unglues her limbs and gives a delicate shake of her head. "I have to go."

Lance furrows his brow, but he doesn't stop her from leaving the hangar. She feels his stare burning holes into her back, but she doesn't turn around, rushing from the stifling waters of Lance's blue eyes.

Is this what an ocean feels like?

She's heard his rants on water, about how he misses the droplets falling upon his skin, soaking his hair as loses himself underneath its waves. Allura wonders if he's her ocean. She's never seen one before, but if she could put a feeling on it, it would be how Lance's eyes drag her to its darkest trenches, and a part of her refuses to resurface.

She goes about her day as usual, until night falls and she retreats into the sanctuary of her bedroom. Allura tucks her knees under her body, pulling the covers to her chin as her mice friends chitter at her feet. She bends down to bring them up to her bed, when a rustling from the other side of the door sends a red alert through her system.

She creeps down from the plush mattress, inching towards the door, ready to attack whoever dared to disturb her peace. A soft shuffling sounded from the end, and from the corner of her eye, she notices a piece of paper sliding underneath the crack of her door. The sounds disappear down the hallway and Allura cautiously straightens. She picks the paper and unfurls it, the cleft between her brows disappearing as Lance's familiar, loopy writing jumps from the page.

'I know you don't want to talk about it, but it occurred to me (as it always does when it's too late—sorry, Princess) that you may be missing your friends from before. I understand where you're coming from. So, I have a preposition. Onward to the next page, 'Llura!'

Allura did as his writing instructed, and a soft laugh escapes her lips.

'Do you wanna be friends?'


End file.
